


Sometimes The Worst Day's Aren't the Worst

by Liz2010



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Friendship, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, No Slash, Protective Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 12:49:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz2010/pseuds/Liz2010
Summary: Stiles is having a rough day. Just when he thinks it can't get worse, it does. But, maybe the worst thing isn't always that bad.





	Sometimes The Worst Day's Aren't the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a rough couple days myself so any and all errors are mine. I don't own anything. I just play with the characters. I wanted this to be Sterek, but couldn't quite make it, so make of that what you will. Comments are welcome!

Stiles Stilinski was having the worst day. He overslept thanks to a power outage and subsequently his alarm not going off. He had to literally run out the door and forgot to grab his book bag. So he had no books, no paper, and no pen. Luckily, Allison was a saint and lent him an actual notepad and pencil, but he still got detention from Harris, that jerk, for not having his chemistry book. 

He didn’t have any money for lunch either. Scott offered to share his, he didn’t have any extra money for Stiles to borrow, but Stiles couldn’t do that to his best friend. Not when Scott now had the most ridiculous metabolism, thanks to the whole werewolf thing.

Seriously. Scott had always been a bottomless pit, but now it was insane. The guy put away two large pizzas last Friday at movie night. Two! Isaac, Boyd and Erica weren’t any better. Any food that was nearby the pack was devoured, no matter who it belonged to. Derek said it was normal, especially while the body was adjusting to the bite, but that didn’t make it any less crazy. 

Lydia did give him a granola bar that tasted like cardboard after she got sick of him complaining about how he was starving to death. It helped, but it was still a long day on a nearly empty stomach. 

Stiles was supposed to have a free hour between practice and school where he planned on grabbing a snack, but he instead had to serve detention with Harris. He didn’t even manage to get any homework done during it because he still didn’t have any books. He spent the hour planning out all the different ways he could make Harris disappear and glaring at the clock.

Harris finally dismissed him, ten minutes late, and he had to sprint to make it to practice on time. Cross country, not lacrosse, but Coach was making the entire lacrosse team participate in. It was an easier sport, but it’s not ideal to be out of breath before you even start running. Which he defiantly was. Scott and Isaac shot him a concerned glance before they all took off running into the woods. 

When Stiles wasn’t exhausted by a ridiculous day and starving, he was actually a pretty good runner. He had the body type for it, tall and lean. He did better at cross country than lacrosse that was for sure. At the last meet, he came in third, losing only to Scott and Isaac. And he had come close to beating Isaac because he had a bad habit of thinking he was faster than he really was and got lazy.

It felt good to be out running, to just focus on his feet pounding beneath him. He had always felt better being outside, less hyper somehow. He went slowly at first, catching his breath. It didn’t take him long to find his rhythm and the miles began to pass by in a comfortable pace. 

He was gaining on Scott and Isaac. He could hear them laughing and joking as they ran and Stiles didn’t like it. He was literally being left in their dust and it was happening more and more lately, and not just when they were our running. His texts to Scott would go unanswered and plans were canceled last minute. He knew it was partly in his head that it was because he wasn’t a wolf, but then again, he wasn’t a wolf. Scott and he now had just a little bit less in common, and it hurt. 

Stiles put on a burst of speed to catch the werewolves, when a solid body came out of nowhere, catching him in the side and pushing him to the dirt.

“What the actual hell?” Stiles yelled, face first in the dirt, his arm stinging from where it was scraped from taking the brunt of the fall. Unfamiliar hands tried to pull him up and he angrily pushed them away as he stood.

Greenburg stood there, looking embarrassed, but not at all sorry. “Sorry man. Didn’t see you there” was all he said before he lumbered off.

Greenburg sucked in every possible way. He was a terrible runner. Stiles knew what had happened. Greenburg had taken the shortcut through the woods. It took you on a higher, shorter trail, but on it, trees blocked the actual path. You couldn’t see the course until you jumped down on it. Lots of guys used it when they just wanted to be done running and didn’t care about training properly.

Other than his scraped wrist, Stiles thought he came away unhurt, until he felt something wet dripping down his face. Great. 

It was just a nosebleed, but a bad one, probably from having his face pushed into the ground by a 200 pound jerk. Blood filled his nose and he couldn’t breathe through it without feeling like he was drowning, so he couldn’t run. He used hem of his t-shirt to soak up the blood as he began to walk the rest of the course. 

It was nearly dark by the time he made it back to the school and all the other cars were gone. Scott hadn’t waited. Stiles started his jeep, and thank god it started today. He took a moment to lean his head on the steering wheel and just breathe. 

His nosebleed had stopped, but Stiles was still wearing his blood covered shirt. He didn’t have another one with him. The smell of blood made his stomach hurt, so he rolled down his windows. It helped some but his arm still stung. He was so done with this stupid day. 

He would go home and shower and clean the blood off. Then, he would order a pizza, extra peperoni, and not tell his dad that he ordered it, so he wouldn’t have to share. He didn’t have much homework which was literally the only good thing that happened all day, so it wouldn’t take him long to do. Then, he was going to lie in bed and watch TV until his mind turned off. 

It was a good plan. 

Stiles was almost home when his day somehow managed to get even worse. He was stopped, with his blinker on, waiting to turn off the highway. A truck flew up behind him, going way too fast. He saw the lights getting dangerously close in his rearview mirror and had just enough time to think “oh shit” before he felt the impact.

Metal hit metal as breaks squealed. Stiles shut is eyes and held on as he was slammed forward, hitting his head against the wheel. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he let out a yell. A very manly yell that was completely appropriate, considering he was in the middle of being hit by a truck. 

When the jeep stopped moving, Stiles opened his eyes. He was still on the road and seemed to be in one piece, which was good. Looking around, he saw that his backseat was very nearly in his front seat, which was less good. 

His head hurt and he felt a little dizzy, but as he carefully touched his face, it didn’t seem to be bleeding too badly. Just a small cut just above his eyebrow and some bruising. He would have a wicked black eye tomorrow. 

Before Stiles could recover enough to get out of his jeep or check on the other driver, a furious man was at his window. 

“Are you stupid?” the man yelled, face red and arms flailing. “Why the hell were you stopped in the middle of the road? You better have good insurance on that piece of crap.”

No one insults his jeep. His jeep was awesome. Stiles forced his door open and stood face to face with the man, ignoring the fact that the guy had a good fifty pounds and three inches on him.

“Listen buddy. I had my blinker on to turn. It’s not by fault you’re too blind to see it.” Stile said with more conviction than he felt. 

“Yeah ok kid. Let’s see who the police believe.” The man walked back to his truck, presumably to call the cops. 

“Yeah, you call them” Stiles shouted and the man flipped him off as he walked away. He leaded again his jeep, head in his hands. It was crusted and the truck was barely scratched. The front bumper might need replaced. Maybe. How was this fair? His dad was going to kill him, even though this totally wasn’t his fault. Traffic was starting to back up behind the crash. This was so bad. He wouldn’t be allowed to drive again until he moved out.

“Stiles!”

He looked up, surprised. His dad couldn’t have possibly gotten here this fast, even if he was nearby on patrol. 

A furious looking Derek Hale came running from being the crash. He skidded to a stop in directly front of Stiles. Derek grabbed both Stiles’ arms and squeezed tightly. It hurt, yeah, but it also felt comforting in a weird sort of way. 

“Are you alright?” Derek asked, both eyes looking over him with intensity, taking in the bruises on his face and the blood on his shirt. 

It was a little too intense. Derek Hale did not show this level of concern for anything less than a fatal injury. 

“Yeah I’m fine.” he replied trying to twist away more from habit than an actual desire to get away, but the hands held tight.

“You’re bleeding. Do you need me to take you to the hospital or can you wait on the ambulance?” Derek glanced away as if deciding the best way to run Stiles out of the wreak without giving away his wolfy powers. 

“Dude, I don’t need to go to the hospital at all. I’m barely bleeding.” Stiles arms were starting to hurt where Derek was holding them because, one, werewolves were strong, and two, he had just been a car crash. “You’re hurting me.”

Derek let go immediately, but didn’t move away. He just glared at Stiles shirt, and jeez, okay, there was a lot of blood on it from his earlier nose bleed. Gross. 

“It was from earlier.” Derek didn’t look like he believed him so Stiles continued. “Dude, you can hear my heartbeat. I’m not lying. I had a nose bleed and apparently bled, like, everywhere.”

“Your heart is all over the place. I can’t tell.” Derek said so softly that even as uncomfortable close as they were, Stiles barely heard him. 

Yeah, his pulse was kinda racing but that’s what the adrenaline from a car crash does to a normal human. And that’s what he was, a normal breakable human who had just had the worst day ever and who really just wanted to go the hell home.

“Awww is this your boyfriend?” The man who hit him was back, done with his phone call apparently, and had a nasty look on his face as he watched the two of them standing together.

Derek’s eyes flashed red for just a moment, before he turned to face the man, completely blocking Stiles from his view. 

“You must be the man who can’t drive well enough to avoid hitting a teenager.” Stiles winced. It wasn’t Derek’s best comeback, but then again, he wasn’t really know for his wit.

“It’s not my fault your little twink didn’t signal. He deserved to get hit.” The man crossed his arms and smirked. 

Derek growled, actually growled. And if Stiles could hear it, other people could hear him. Oh, this could be bad. Stiles put a hand on Derek’s leather bound shoulder and squeezed, hoping to anchor him to the moment.

The growls cut off. But, when Derek spoke a moment later, it was slurred, sounding suspiciously like Derek was talking around his fangs. His sharp fangs that could rip this truck driving idiot apart in Stiles didn’t get the wolf to calm down. “You need to go back to your truck before I make you.”

The man scoffed. Derek started towards the man, but Stiles used both arms and all his strength to pull him back. “Easy there big guy. This guy isn’t worth your little secret getting out.” Stiles said. 

“Oh this a secret. Well you better run away then, little man” the man was talking again and did he actually have a death wish or just not know how to keep his mouth shut.   
“Wouldn’t want anyone to know the types of boys you like to do.”

Derek snarled and broke away from Stiles. Things could have gotten very very bad, if the police, lights flashing and sirens wailing, hadn’t chosen that exact moment to show up.

“Everything all right here gentlemen?” said the Sheriff, stepping out of the car and waking towards the crash site. Stiles could have cried. Of course his dad would be the first one to show up because the universe hated him. 

John didn’t know about werewolves. Stiles still hadn’t told him, despite Scott’s encouragement to just to it already. So having Derek here, defending him, would send up all kinds of red flags. Stiles thought he had his dad convinced that Derek wasn’t a murder and just a guy that like to hand around with teenagers, and God, that sounded bad. He had explained it better at the time, claiming that Derek was Isaac’s mentor, and John seemed to accept it. But he probably wouldn’t understand Derek ripping some guy’s throat out. 

Before Stile could come up with some clever lies to distract his dad, the man who hit him was talking. Again.

“No, this dumbass stopped in the middle of the road and I hit him. Then his boyfriend came over and started threatening me.” The man was flailing again as he spoke.

John looked unimpressed as he took in the damage of both the vehicles. 

“Is that true?” the Sheriff asked as he turned to Derek and Stiles, Stiles pushed himself in front. “Nope. I was stopped to turn, with my blinker on. He hit me then got all aggressive. Derek, not my boyfriend, just so everyone is clear on that, happened to be driving by and recognized my car. He was just making sure I was okay.” Stiles gestured at his bloody shirt and John’s face tightened.

“Are either of you hurt?” he asked without even looking at the other man.

“I’m fine. It’s mostly from practice. My head is just a little sore” Stiles said, knowing his father understood his tendency to come home from practices dirty and bleeding and probably wouldn’t worry about the blood if he thought it was from that. 

The man snorted and muttered something. Derek tensed and moved towards the man yet again. John held up his hand and stepped in the way. Derek stopped, but still looked murderous.

“Easy there son.” John said. “No need for any of that.”

“He said, ‘I bet something else is sore.’” Derek growled.

“What?” the sheriff was frowning now and he rounded on the man.

“Mr.? What was your name?” he said, using his most official voice that still made Stiles feel peeing his pants when it was directed at him.

The man seemed to feel the same. He swallowed visibly before answering much more respectfully “Jones. Tom Jones.”

“Mr. Jones, what is it you are implying exactly?” the Sheriff's eyes were narrow and Stiles knew this guy was about to be owned. 

The man looked worried and he should be. “Just, I mean, you know” he stuttered. “Those two fairies have probably hurt each other worse than that just doing the nasty things they do. I mean, look at them.”

Stiles saw the exact moment that John switched from official officer of the law, to pissed off parent. For just a second, pure rage burned in his eyes, before the professional mask dropped back down. 

“Mr. Jones, in this town we don’t tolerate that kind of homophobic thinking or attitude. Now, since no one is hurt, I’m going to call a tow truck for both vehicles. You can either call someone or you can ride with me to the station. We could talk some more about this outlook of yours.”

“I’ll call my wife.” the man said, turning back to his truck and pulling out his cell.

“Pity his wife.” Derek muttered in reply, just loud enough for Stiles to hear. He snorted, and apparently that was all it took for all of the Sheriff's attention to be fixed back on him.  
He pulled him in for a quick hug, before examining the cut on his head, pressing down hard.

“Ouch!” Stiles yelped, “Still a little tender there Pops.” 

“Shouldn’t even need stitches.” he said, more to himself than his kid. “You know I can’t officially take your statement. I have to deal with all of this,” he gestured at the glass on the pavement and the traffic that was still backed up. “One of the other officers will swing by the house and get it later.”

He looked at Derek, who was still glaring at the man in the truck. “Derek, can you take Stiles home please?”

Stiles mouth dropped open, shocked by the request. His dad didn’t like Derek at all, didn’t trust him at all. And now he was sending his son, his only child, home with him.

Derek looked just as confused as Stiles felt. “Home?” he asked. “He’s hurt. He should go to the hospital.”

John looked concerned, like maybe Stiles was hiding something from him and he really was hurt. “Stiles, do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No, Dad, I promise, I’m fine. I just really want to go home.” Stiles said truthfully. 

John hugged him again quickly, and dropped a kiss on the top of his head before pushing him gently towards Derek. “Go on. And drive safe please.” 

The Derek and Stiles walked away from the wreck. Well, Stiles walked. Derek stalked. He just couldn’t ever relax. They were almost out of earshot then they heard the man yell “Wait, that was your son! I want to talk to your supervisor.”

Stiles snorted again. That guy really was an asshole. He hoped his dad gave him a hard time. Then again, he would probably sue him or something later, saying the police weren’t impartial. He wished his jeep had damaged the truck worse. At least then, the guy would be hurting a little.

The Camaro was parked just a few yards down, pulled slightly off the road. Officers were directing other cars around it, as well as the crash. Stiles was doing fine until he had to jump over the ditch to get to the passenger side. He misjudged it and stumbled, almost falling. Derek was there in an instant, grabbing his arm and hauling him, none to gently, into the seat. 

Derek jumped into the driver’s seat and merged carefully into the traffic. It was slow going for the first couple miles, and Stiles let his head rest against the window, suddenly exhausted. He could sleep for a week. Maybe he could play it up, and his dad would let him stay home from school tomorrow. 

He clenched his hands into fists, trying to hide their shaking. He wasn’t feeling great and he really hoped he didn’t throw up in Derek’s car. 

Derek saw Stiles’ hands, because of course he did and Stiles was sure he could smell the fatigue on him. He didn’t say anything, just grunted, and Stiles was grateful.

It took Stiles longer than it should have to realize they weren’t heading home. They were heading downtown.

“Derek, you have to drop me off before you go home.” Stiles said, thinking maybe Derek just forgot he was there. He was being quiet for once. 

Derek didn’t say anything, which was normal. God, he was so weird.

“Dude, if you’re kidnapping me, at least throw me in the truck of something. Really make it worth your while. Even though you’re made it pretty clear you don’t want me around, so I don’t know why you would kidnap me. Maybe to get back at my dad for making you drive me. I’m sure you have plans to terrorize woodland creatures or something.” Stiles let himself ramble for a bit as they drove into a drive-through restaurant, of all places.

“Derek, what are you doing?” Stiles was officially confused and he was too tired to figure out if this was just some weird werewolf thing.

“Sugar.” Derek grunted out finally, after Stiles gave him his best annoying stare.

“Yes, honey?” Stiles quipped. “I didn’t know we were at the pet names stage in our, well not friendship. Acquaintanceship?”

Derek took a deep breathe. He was clearly regretting this whole thing. “You need sugar. That’s what my dad always said. Humans go into shock after traumatic experiences and sugar helps. Now, what do you want?” 

Stiles was too stunned to say anything but his order. It wasn’t until once they had their food and were back on the road, driving slow with the windows down, eating as they went, that Stiles finally spoke.

“How do you know about shock?” he asked. “I mean, werewolves don’t go into shock right. You didn’t after the whole wolfsbane bullet arm almost amputated thing. I mean, you looked like shit, but you didn’t actually medically drop.” 

Derek answered between bites. He had ordered three sandwiches just for him and was already through two them, while Stiles was barely half done with his. So, maybe the ridiculous metabolism thing wasn’t just for newly bit wolves.

“There were humans in my pack. My dad was a bitten wolf, so some of his kids were bound to be human. My older brother was, and so was my littlest sister.”

Stiles didn’t know how many siblings Derek had once had but knew Derek didn’t like to talk about his family, so he was willing to leave the conversation alone. He didn’t like it when people talked about his mom, after all. He nodded and finished his burger.

They pulled up in front of the Stilinski’s house and Derek turned off the car. Stiles was feeling better, less shaky, but he was still tired. 

“Why did you stop?” Stiles asked, and he wasn’t talking right now. He meant earlier, at the wreak. It didn’t make sense really, and had been bugging him the whole ride home.

Derek didn’t bother to pretend to misunderstand. His expression was serious as he answered. “I heard it happen. I heard you scream. It…. it worried me. I didn’t know why you were yelling. I thought something was happening to my pack. I guess something did happen to my pack. Someone tried to hurt it.”

“So, I am pack. Even though I’m a weak little human.” Stiles grinned stupidly and tried to ease the tension in Derek’s shoulders. He wagged his eyebrows, fully expecting an eye roll or a shove out of the car.

Instead, Derek looked down at the wheel, ducking his head. If Stiles didn’t know better, he would have though Derek was ashamed. 

“Yeah. You’re pack” was all he said.

Stiles nodded, assuming the conversation was over. He opened his door, ready to go inside, take some Tylenol, because man he was starting to feel the effects of the crash, and fall into bed.

“Humans are important. To the pack. They keep us from losing ourselves. They remind us not to let the wolf win. At least, not all the time.” Derek’s head was still down, but he looked up and when met Stiles’ eyes, there was a certain intensity in them Stiles had never seen. “Don’t forget you’re valuable.”

That might have been the most Stiles had ever heard Derek say. It least, when he was talking about something meaningful. It left Stiles at a loss for words, which never happened.  
He always had something to say. The silence dragged on awkwardly. Stiles wasn’t sure what to do here. Should he say something meaningful? Was it a hug moment? A manly handshake?

“Ummmm, thanks.” he finally said as he got out of the car and shut the door.

“Do you need me to come in?” Derek asked gruffly.

“Nah, I’m fine. One of dad’s guys will be by soon, and I’m sure he will come home early today.” Stiles said.

Derek nodded and turned the car back on, putting the shift into drive. 

“Hey Derek?” Stiles called out, knowing that the werewolf could hear, even over the engine.

“Thanks,” Stiles said sincerely.

Derek just nodded and drove away.

Stiles watch the car for a moment before turning away. Derek said he was important. He was pack. A warm feeling filled his stomach and he smiled. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.


End file.
